Just hold me.

This afternoon Timmy got upset with Birdie because she let the dogs in when he wanted to, and there was no way to reason with him. He just screamed and screamed and screamed. I asked him politely to calm down and to stop screaming maybe 20 times before my nerves started to rattle and I warned him I'd put him in his room if he insisted on crying so loudly. He didn't stop; in fact, I think he got louder. I picked him up and carried him to his room and left him screaming on his bed. He screamed for another 40 minutes. I went in every 10 minutes or so and asked him to stop, but I knew my limits. I knew I'd lose my patience if I continued to ask, so I just walked away each time. Finally, around the 40 minute mark I figured enough was enough and I started my slow climb to his room, dreading the scene I'd find inside. I opened the door and was about to repeat the same plea I'd tried multiple times, but I felt a distinct impression that I shouldn't say anything but that I should just go in and hold him. The words sometimes you just need to be held when you cry came to my mind, and I quieted my nerves and thoughts and held him until he calmed down, which happened rather quickly to my surprise.

I've been thinking about this impression: sometimes you just need to be held when you cry. It's true. Sometimes words aren't the answer. Sometimes the only answer lies in the stillness and silence. I am grateful to have had those thoughts in the moment I needed them.